Chapter 5
November
Perhaps my timing is making it too obvious. I should have waited another month before I came back, but I just couldn’t. I was getting restless, sitting at the bakery and thinking about Mikey. The need to see her freckled face and hear her voice and see her was overwhelming.
Does she think about me? Did she like the extra bourbon I added to the last batch of cookies? What’s she like outside of work? What are her hobbies?
I know she liked the bread I made. I know Merv speaks highly of her. I know she’s patient with Patrick and quick to adapt. But I need to know more.
I glance back at the muffins, Thermos of soup, and the two loaves of garlic herb bread I made for her.
Yeah, I’m being super obvious. If she didn’t already suspect I had feelings for her, she probably does now. It’s clear as day I’m driving down here specifically for her. I don’t have a plausible explanation for the bread she gushed over.
Does this scream “unhinged psycho stalker?”
I’m not stalking her, though. If I were, I would have stayed behind and followed her home after the time we spent together in August. That evening?
It was special. I think about that half an hour daily, and it leaves me craving more.
Fate has given me multiple chances with Mikey, and I haven’t made the most of them yet.
I hope fate is feeling generous today.
“Ah-ha! Pat, you owe me twenty bucks. I told ya he’d be back.” Merv cackles and slaps his hand on his knee as soon as I’m inside the lobby. There’s no one here, and Merv and Patrick are both behind the desk. Must be a slow day.
“Damn it,” Patrick whispers, pulling out his wallet.
“Saint! Did ya bring more cookies? I’m withering away here and need to pad up for the winter.” Merv pats his belly and leans back in the chair.
“Sorry to disappoint you, Merv, but not today.” I throw my thumb over my shoulder in the direction of the van. “I have—”
“Yeah, yeah. Somethin’s wrong with your van, and ya need to get it checked before you can go back to Cupid’s Cove. Mikey’s not here.”
I try to hide my disappointment, but my shoulders sag with defeat. “I didn’t think—”
“Sure ya didn’t. It’s okay, son. Mikey’ll be back tomorrow if your problem is still there.”
I really should get back to Cupid’s Cove. I just wiggled the light connectors loose, so I can plug those back in and fix it myself. I should cut my losses and take this as a sign to stop this nonsense.
“I’ve gotta head back tonight, so if someone else has time to look, it’s just my tail lights…” I trail off, feeling like a really big idiot.
Patrick and Merv share a look before Patrick stands and holds out his hands. “You know, this might take a while. You shouldn’t sit here and wait in an empty lobby. There’s a bar down the street, Rooster’s, you should check out. Good food, good drinks.”
“Rooster’s is a great place. Might find exactly what you’re lookin’ for there,” Merv adds pointedly.
Why the hell are they trying to get me to go to a bar at three o’clock on a Thursday?
“I uh… I guess I’ll be at Rooster’s? Do you need my number to let me know when the van is done?”
“Nah. We’ve got it. Your van is in good hands. Go find what you need, and don’t let it go once ya got it.” Merv nods resolutely, shooing me out the door.
Merv told me Rooster’s was a few blocks east on the left, and I have no trouble finding it once I turn a corner and see the bright red neon sign with a rooster wearing a cowboy hat, holding a beer stein.
The outside has a brick facade with metal signs of the different brands of alcohol they serve pinned against the wall. The only other bar I’ve been to is Kiss & Tell in Cupid’s Cove, so I don’t have much to compare it to, but it looks clean.
When I walk in, though, the vibes are vastly different from Kiss & Tell.
Rooster’s is kind of a dive, with cracked vinyl seats lining booths and heavy wooden stools along the bar.
There are low-hanging lights that look like eggs set low and warm.
Rooster and chicken decorations take up every available surface.
It’s kitschy, but the decor is clearly not hurting business.
Once I’ve adjusted to the light inside, my gaze lands on a head of familiar brown hair.
She’s sitting at the bar with a woman who looks to be in her early fifties, glasses of amber liquid in front of them.
I’d recognize the slope of her nose and the curve of her cheek anywhere.
Her hair is down in messy waves today, which is new, but I know it’s Mikey.
Did they know she’d be here?
Am I supposed to say something?
I should just slip out of here and—
“Hey, man, sit wherever you want!” the bartender yells, drawing every eye in the room to me, including Mikey’s. Her teal eyes are shadowed by the dim lighting, but I still see them widen in surprise.
Fuck.
She gives me a small smile and nods to the empty seat next to her. I take a deep breath, making my way to where she’s sitting.
Fate better be on my side right now.
“Fancy seeing you here,” she muses, taking a small sip of her drink. She winces as the alcohol hits her tongue.
“Yeah. Uh, my van’s at the shop.”
“Again? What happened?”
“The back lights aren’t working. Patrick’s taking a look.”
“Ah, well, it shouldn’t take long. I don’t know why they sent you away.”
“I don’t think Merv wanted to keep me company today.”
Mikey snorts, then jolts and turns to the woman next her. “Sorry, how rude of me. Saint, this is Kelly. Kelly, this is Saint. He’s a customer.”
I offer my hand across the bar, and Kelly takes it, her brown eyes scanning me appreciatively.
“Pleasure to meet you, ma’am.”
“You as well, Saint. I’ve heard so much about you.” She smirks as Mikey groans.
So Mikey’s been talking about me?
Hell yes.
The bartender comes to take my order, and I ask for a strawberry lemonade since I’m driving later. Mikey takes another swallow of her drink and shudders, setting the glass on the bar.
“What are you drinking? And why are you drinking it if you don’t like it?” It’s probably none of my business, but curiosity about her overrules my common sense, it seems.
Mikey sighs, tipping her head back between her shoulder blades.
“It’s silly, really.” I don’t want to pry, so I wait.
She continues after a beat, the words tumbling out of her mouth, “My dad really liked bourbon. River’s Way Distillery’s Trail’s End blend specifically.
It’s his birthday today, and since he’s not here to drink it, I have a glass for him.
I think it tastes like lighter fluid, but this one,” she motions to Kelly, “insisted it would make us feel closer to him. So I push through it.”
My heart pinches in my chest. I know what it’s like to lose a parent, though I don’t know her full story. Another thread tying us together. Another thing making me even more certain she’s meant to be the great love of my life.
“I think if he were here, he’d tell you that you’re supposed to let the bourbon sit on your tongue a bit, maybe swirl it around your mouth before swallowing. It helps the burn.”
Kelly leans forward so she can see me. “I told her that, too, but she didn’t believe me. Big bourbon fan?”
I chuckle. “No, I don’t drink often. My friend Claire owns the bar in town, and she held a tasting class once.”
Mikey hums, taking another smaller sip of bourbon. I watch as she lets it sit on her tongue for a bit before her throat bobs in a swallow. “Yeah, no, that’s still fucking awful,” she sputters out.
Kelly pats her on the back, “Good on you for trying, though.”
I take a sip of my lemonade to hide my smile. Mikey’s got a dirty mouth. Maybe she’s not censoring herself as much since we’re not at the shop.
“For what it’s worth, I think it's sweet you’re honoring your dad by enjoying his drink of choice.”
“Thank you.” She sighs. “You’d think the loss would get easier, but five years later I still try to call him when I’m having a rough day or need help figuring out a tough problem at work. I just…” she trails off, shaking her head.
“I don’t know exactly how you feel, but I can relate. I still get the urge to call my mom and tell her about my day, share exciting news.” Like the day I met you.
Mikey reaches over and gives my forearm a gentle squeeze. The touch is so casual, it makes my head spin and goosebumps rise underneath my flannel. “I’m sorry you get it.”
A phone ringing breaks the silence passing between us, and Kelly groans before giving us an apologetic smile. “Sorry, Mikes. Duty calls. Call me later, okay? Love you big. Nice to meet you, Saint.”
“You, too,” I say before she hops off her barstool, gives Mikey a side hug, then walks out with her phone pressed to her ear.
I open my mouth to say something—anything—but my phone rings. “I’m sorry.” I wince, pulling it out of my pocket. “This is Saint,” I answer, shooting an apologetic smile Mikey’s way.
“Hey, Saint, it’s Patrick at Merv’s. Your van’s all done.”
No, damn it. I need more time.
“Great. I’ll uh, I’ll come pick it up right away.”
“Cool. See you soon.”
Patrick hangs up, and I glance over just as Mikey tips her head all the way back and swallows the rest of the liquid in her glass. Her face twists into a disgusted expression, and I’d laugh if I weren’t upset about having to part ways.
“Your van’s ready?” she asks, pointing to my phone.
“Yep.” Now would be my opportunity to ask her out. I don’t want our time together to end. I don’t want to keep having twenty-minute snippets of time with her.
I want to have hours. Days. Weeks.
I want more.
I want to hear about her dad and Kelly. I want to know if Kelly is her mom or her step-mom or what role she has in Mikey’s life. I want to ask what her favorite childhood memories are. I want to ask her what she likes to do for fun, what her favorite foods are.
“I can walk you over, if you’d like,” Mikey offers.
“I’m sure you have better things to do,” I protest, even though hope flutters in my chest.